


Playing It Like A Chessboard

by Wangan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Diplomacy, Illustrated, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wangan/pseuds/Wangan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War consumes everything.<br/>It takes everything.<br/>It has no mercy and takes no prisoners.<br/>It holds no qualms about stealing from the old and killing the young.<br/>And what doesn't kill, it scars.<br/>Tavros is one with such scars he tries to hide. Scars that have yet to heal. Most still raw and fresh from the trenches, infected with guilt and clotted with pain. Called a hero but aching like a victim. Yet now with the weight of a whole nation and possibly the planet put on his shoulders, those wounds threaten to tear its mental stitching wide open. And this time, even with help, he just might very well bleed out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for a long time and I finally have gotten around to publishing it. Reviews and Kudos are welcome. Will add more characters as things get further along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm down on my knees here praying that this fic is good.

It didn’t feel like an explosion, it felt like the earth itself cracked open. The huge column of orange blocked his vision. Smoke filled his lungs and burned his throat. He could barely see. The mix of the flash, smoke, and the tears clouding his vision. The fact he could even see to begin with. But… why was it so quiet? A ringing wined in his aurals. It was a unsettling noise that overwhelmed his thoughts, muffling everything else under it’s long, drawn-out seemingly never ending note. The wet, soft earth burned against his body.

He knew something broke. He couldn’t feel it but he could tell. If the uncomfortable grating, grinding-like feeling  that his joints broadcast-as if there was no more cartilage in them-when he picked himself up wasn’t oblivious, then the sudden, acid-sack churning of muscles and bone under the skin, like a biological siren that warned, ‘You are NOT OKAY!!!!!’ did.  He attempted to wipe the blurriness out of his eyes, only succeeding in streaking mud along his face.

He fumbled to rub his eyes and cursed—wiping your eyes did no good when your hands were coated in as much muck as the rest of you.

He blinked repeatedly instead hoping the tears would wash the feeling of glass from his oculars. The burning waned but only just as his line of sight tunneled into a microscopic lens, rimmed with fog. The trench was gone. Where had the trench gone? He looked around as if expecting to find someone to answer.

He tried to breathe, stupidly making the mistake of drawing in too deep. The air, still heavy with billowing smoke, uppercut him in the face, sticking in his lungs like he had just tried to inhale syrup and acid. He doubled over as he coughed, nearly passing out as each forced rasp held the sensation of being stabbed through the chest.

There was a sound like a distant drum, just barely audible under the high-pitched hum, and he staggered again as another tremor ran through the ground. Before he even had the chance to question his own disoriented braincase on why an instrument was even on the battlefield, much less being played now of all times, the ground in front of him sprang up like a surprised mewlbeast, the slippery turf quaking on its appearance, throwing him off his already uncoordinated and certainly unprepared feet. Embers and sparks, flared and dispersed among the spray of clotted dirt and grass that rained down him, looking for all to the world like a hellish geyser of brimstone. The acrid stench of sulfuric powder railroaded into his nose and chafed his raw throat. It took everything in him to hold back the following coughing fit, lest he really pass out from the pain.

Oh, that’s right.

Shelling.

Like a wounded animal, he got back to his feet and tore into a run. To where? He had no idea but if he stayed where he was the odds of him living were astronomically slim. The best chance was to keep moving. The last explosion had cleared a path through the smoke. Given some semblance of direction, he charged through the opening. As black cloud parted like a thin curtain, his bloodpusher stopped and ice thundered through his veins momentarily dousing the inferno of pain that sparked across every nerve his think pan taking in the horrific scene in front of him. In that one moment he wished he’d chosen a different way.

Mangled bodies were strewn everywhere. The dead scattered as far as the horizon, littering the bombed out landscape. Among the carnage there was movement. Some were still alive, writhing on the ground. their faces a pantomime of an agony so great he shivered to imagine. The high noise in his ears drowned out the screams, the desperate pleas, the cries and wails of the soon to be dead.  It was the only thing preventing him from stopping.

_Too many to save. No way to save them._

Rainbow blood covered the ground, mixing with the mud and filth. He realized he had lost his shoes only when he felt the gory sludge squished between his toes, bubbly and thick. Invisible talons stabbed deeper into him, into his very core, his soul and then gave them all a merciless twist. Every step became more nauseating then the last. He needed to stop, if not to help anyone then just not to puke all over himself. His vision blurred with tears with each body, dead or alive, that he passed as he prayed that he would be forgiven for this irremediable sin. The gods must have not agreed that he was worth redemption.

The whine dissipated in an instant.  A cacophony of sound hit him like a bullet and suddenly he could hear everything…

They’re screaming, loud enough to fill the air with deafening, terrifying noise. The din began to take over his mind. It encompassed him, shattering every coherent thought in his thinkpan to dust. Vainly, he slapped his hands over his hearing ducts but the echoes forced their way through.

It Hurts. IT HURTS!!! His own scream mingled with them. He shook his head wildly, unable to free himself from the abominable chorus burning, _ripping_ , around his mind.

_Wake up!_

Tavros’ eyes shot open. Cold sweat streamed down his face, his breath coming out in short gasps. The vice in his chest released but not by much, he was being gripped by arms-Aradia’s arms. When did she get here? Oh, wait. He invited her into his quarters.

Her face was buried in his chest, arms stiff, and eyes shut tight as if holding on for dear life. This must have been a bad one. Her arms loosened around him, but she didn’t let go and Tavros slowly reached out and returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “How bad was it this time?”

“Pretty bad. You were thrashing and screaming. I had a hard time convincing the guards that you weren’t being attacked.” Oh, Hell! It had been _that_ bad. “It was even harder to convince them to leave.” She looked up at him, maroon eyes filled with such captivating pale concern. Tavros felt his bloodpusher heat up to surface temperature of the sun. “How bad was it?” Same question asked. Different answer wanted. Tavros flinched from her eyes, knowing that he would spill like a cracked glass if he held the gaze any longer.

Sighing, he pulled away from her and propped his back on the other end of the coon. Trying to delay his answer as long as he could, pushing a few low-hanging, slime-covered strands of hair off his face before using both hands to slick back his matted mohawk into a more orderly matted mess. He then stretched out what he knew was the most unconvincing fake yawn he’d ever done.

His morail frowned. “Tavros…” She began.

“It was another flashback.” He snapped quickly, cutting her off before she crossed that bridge. The ‘Bridge’ being a long chiding, but adoring and comforting  monologue about how he shouldn’t hold back his thoughts, that it was her duty as a partner of the diamond to help him with his problems, and not to bottle them up. He’d heard the speech so many times, but it never failed to melt in the presence of her warm words, no matter how thick his shield of ice was glazed over.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to know how he was feeling. He felt so pale for her that it could barely be described with reasonable words. That made him fine with helping her with her problems but, when compared with his own, such complaints seemed so insignificant.  Tavros could still remember when they were just young wigglers. The long sleepless hours and sometimes days when the spirits had been too much for her to deal with alone. Creepy and disturbing visions aside, they had come out of it with a diamond cast stronger than steel with deeper roots than even the oldest trees. Which was why shutting up was like kicking his foot into a brick wall, all that was gained was a broken toe and a bit of shame for being dumb enough to do it in the first place. Plus, he was a terrible liar.

Not to her, just in general.

He felt the slime surge a little as Aradia moved over next to him. She stroked his cheek with the tips of her fingers in a pale action that made him flush. “You don’t need to be alone with this. Work with me, Tavros.” Her tone had taken a slightly weary undercurrent flutter.  She looked worn. Her usually fizzy hair drooped in a low, tangled, shiny mass that seemed to droop even lower from the dull green cling of slime. Her shoulders sagged, elevating up and down with every slow deep breath. It looked like someone had etched the weight of exhaustion into her very bones.

Tavros felt is insides twist in a bubbling muddle of pity and guilt.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked gently. He already knew the answer, but knowing did nothing to remove the guilt as she shook her head. Tavros reached over, stroking a rebellious lock of hair out of her face and pulled her close. “I didn’t consider.” His voice caught a fraction as it dawned on him. She had been up this whole time to help him, to comfort him. God, he was a shitty morail.“I’m sorry.”

Aradia shook her head again. “You don’t need to be. Everyone is nervous about today, I’m no exception.”

“Everyone is,” Tavros agreed. “But that’s no excuse for my coldness. I just…” With a small smile Aradia reached up and papped him on the forehead, a small soggy _smacking_ sound coming from her sopor covered hand.  “Shooooosh.” She soothed. “You needed more help than me. So stop being so hard on yourself, you old bull.” Her grin was infectious. Tavros felt his lips twitch as he tried not to smile. She must have seen it because her grin turned into a sly smirk full of impish delight. Tavros realized too late just what she was about to do. Before he could back paddle away she shoved her arms up his nightshirt, dainty fingers dancing along his sides. “BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! HAHAHAHAHA! S-ST-AHAHAHAHAHAH! STOP. DON’T! IT TICKLES!!! HAHAHAHAHA!” Tavros desperately groped for the lip of the coon, in order to pull himself out of her reach. “You don’t get away,” she teased, pulling him back down. “Not until you smile!” Her fingers tickled harder and faster. Tavros jerked in the recuperacoon, kicking out, trying to block his morails hands and doing a poor job at it. Sopor slime sloshed over the rim, splattering on the floor. “Better do it fast or I go for the armpits.” At that Tavros tried to jump out the ‘coon again, unsuccessfully slipping back in, practically screaming, “NO! HAHAHAHA! Y-YOU WOULDN’T… AAHAHAHAHAHAHA! DARE!” 

Fingers stopped, an evil gleam appearing in her eye. [**_"Would I?"_**](http://playingitlikeachessboard.tumblr.com/post/52252316604) Immediately, Tavros knew that was the wrong choice of words.

By the time the tickling torture ended nearly half the floor was covered in green slime. Araida was helpful enough to hand him to mop as she left to finish her packing. The Job was short a few swipes across the floor and it was done. Though a few strands still stuck to his feet, he ignored them to get dressed. It was his last day here and though it had been his home for the last few weeks,  the way it was when he had first arrived wasn’t anywhere near the level of clean he was leaving it.

XXX

“Are you sure about this?”

“As sure as my horns are huge.”

“God fucking damn it! Nitram, I’m serious. That was why I called you in here.”

“Okay, I’m not sure about this.” Tavros sighed and cupped his head in his hands in mock exasperation. “But tell me, when are you not serious, Karkat. Or rather when are you not going all the way with your metaphors? You always are saying you never have time for, and I quote, ‘games for inexperienced brain-addled wigglers who would be better off sticking their heads up their nooks.” He chuckled at his attempt at half-baked humor, looking at the chair behind the elaborate but cluttered wooden four-legged writing platform— No! Desk, He meant desk. Trying to remember the highblood vernacular that was driven into him from the lessons was not going to make an already hard job any easier.

Seated in the chair opposite him, in a charcoal-gray business suit, was one of the most powerful trolls this side of the planet, known for a temper shorter than his horns-woe on the unlucky person stupid enough to mention that to his face-and a history of military reports longer than the spans of his arms to back up his willingness to work that anger out through his fists.

Karkat Vantas was a scrapper whose legendary bursts of rage made up for his small stature. Not excluding, the fact that almost immaculate leadership record had made him General at an age when most were still working to be officers. That and his ‘mutant’ blood color, made him the closest thing to royalty the United Color Monarchy had, without him leading government. In short, the most powerful troll on base.

But Tavros knew the mutant was by no means pampered and lazy. In fact, he vehemently hated his cushy job and never failed to mention it to anyone who would listen, anyone being his small ring of friends. He often called his position in the ranks a ‘prissy little seat that was worth less than shit on the ground; and that his little promotion did little more than to ‘make sure the House of the Sufferers got their wish to keep him off the front lines, so the ‘ ** _precious blood’_** wouldn’t be spilled.’ His position may have changed but temperament wise he was still an angry son-of-a-bitch.

Tavros had seen on multiple occasions what he was capable of but that didn’t stop him from ‘shooting the shit’, as they say with said feisty troll every so often. God! Tavros made a mental note to himself that he had to stop talking to Terezi, he was learning too much from her.

Karkat growled and bared his teeth. “Nitram, I swear you are as full of horsefronds as you are of stupidity.”

“You mean bravery, _Sir_.”  Tavros said, lifting up his head and smirking with more confidence than he felt he could muster at the moment, tilting his head to the side with a lazy, insubordinate air and leaned his back into a more comfortable position in the chair he sat in.

Karkat gripped his desk, his claws digging visible grooves on the smooth surface. “What’s the difference, Nitram? They’re one and the same. ‘Bravery’ is just a term created to give uneducated nooksniffers a reason to march. Bravery is a term that gives an excuse on the casualties of war. A word that gives definition to the insurmountably stupid acts of self-destruction that comes when one could easily back down. A word, so fucking over estimated in usage and application, that it has come to the point that it genuinely means nothing.” By the time he was finished Karkat’s jaw was clenched so tight his teeth were audibly creaking under the strain, his claws digging grooves in his wooden desk.

In a moment, Tavros felt a degree of anger rise in him, his jaw locking his teeth together forcing his words into a hiss before he could stop himself. “It isn’t _nothing_.” he snapped, his glare connecting with Karkat’s and beating it down. “What I’m about to do cannot be considered bravery. What I have done in the past will never be considered bravery. But bravery is never for _nothing._ Or have _you_ forgotten Karkat?”

A wince, claws relaxing out of their carved placing.

Tavros leaned back into the chair, the momentary aggression seeping out of him like the last embers of a fire, replaced with a feeling of dread as he waited for the other’s reaction. Shit! He had probably gone too far by mentioning that.

When Karkat slumped behind his desk instead of leaping across it to strangle him, Tavros counted himself lucky. “Fuck. No, I haven’t forgotten. I’m sorry but… Shit. Tavros,” Karkat ran his claws through his hair, mussing up his already wild hair style. “I just wanted to make sure that you were sure of this. Those highbloods are all hierarchical relationships. Blood appraisers, all of them. If they back out of this treaty, I can’t imagine what they would do to you and Aradia, I mean, she volunteered to be your body guard for this. She is going through with it as well.” Karkat pauses for a moment to draw in a breath. “Listen, I know you want peace, just as much as the next one, but I don’t want you to jump head long into a shit storm—”

“I have made up my mind, Karkat.” Tavros cut in, smiling. “I was set for this day when I volunteered.”

Karkat sunk in his chair, idly picking at one of the grooves in his desk as Tavros added, “Plus why would they back out of a treaty they offered or, better yet, why would they even offer it in the first place?”

“To distract us? Fuck, I don’t know. I guess it’s just sweeps of fighting instincts just don’t think it’s right. I mean, a cross hemospectrum Matespritship quadrant treaty? After all this time? It seems practically fucking impossible.”

Tavros had to agree. The proposal came from The Condesce herself, from left field, and bowled over everyone for three reasons. Not only was a cross spectrum relationship of any kind Illeagal since the days of The Sufferer, and charge being treason and a subsequent execution for those who broke it. but _The Condesce_ personally cross borders to speak with the voted Parlementerrors of proposing it as a treaty of peace.

“But yet we have it. Should we have any reason to complain?” He asked. “I know there is probably going to be sour feelings between our two—”

“Sour?” Karkat snapped. He looked at Tavros as if he had just pulled a candle out of his ear.  “Are those huge head hangers on your braincase blocking any blood from reaching your think pan, Nitram? Sour is tricking Captor into saying ‘sassafras’ and listening to the fang mangled bastardization of every sibilant of the word. Sour is shooting a barkbeast pup in the leg and then drop kicking it in the face because it can’t walk. Sour is getting shot in the ass by your own ally getting it infected and still not getting an apology. Sour doesn’t even come close to describing the global circle of revenge that has cycled on for so long.”

Tavros waved his hand and took a step back. “I get it. Maybe that was the wrong choice of—”

“Maybe?!?”

“Okay, so it _was_ the wrong word to use,” Tavros admited, “But you can’t look at this the wrong way. Even if the rest of the Highbloods don’t want peace, the Condesce’s word is law, at least that’s how I remember it from my schoolfeeding.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Tavros watched as Karkat stood up and turned his back on him, looking out the large bay window behind his chair, hands clasped behind his back. “What if someone thinks that The Imperial Majesty’s questionable decision to make peace is not what they want? What if they gear for you or your morail? That’s why we insisted you stay on the base for the duration of the time left before your departure.”

Karkat heaved a heavy sigh and after a moment longer of staring outside, faced him, the next words that coming out in a low hiss, his voice dry and straining. “What if they kill you?”

“I…” Tavros faded before he started. Now he could see where Karkat was coming from. It may have been his choice to go but if he was killed, rogue highblood or not, the war would start again. Tavros felt his high spirit falter a little. “I don’t know.” He answered honestly.

A solemn quiet set in the room…for about three seconds.

The door flew open so hard it slammed into the wall. A voice rang off the walls, “WHAT THE FUCK ITH THITH SHIT?!?!” Tavros jumped in his seat and spun around as the thin form of Sollux Captor stalked up, a file clutched in his fist, his face twisted into a mask of rage focused on Karkat. Tavros wasn’t noticed as the yellowblood stormed past him and threw the file on the desk, its loose contents spreading across the already cluttered surface. “ITH WHAT I’M READING, RIGHT?!? THE ORDERS CAME FROM YOU?!?”

The Royal Archivist and Spymaster, the guy whose information and counterintelligence operations had saved the lives of countless soldiers, his own included, the guy who rarely showed his face in public. He was angrier than Tavros had ever seen him but then again he never saw him much. The only reason he knew the yellowblood by name was because he was Araida’s matesprit…among happier associations.

“Yes, those are my orders. I made them especially clear and to the point. Simplified just enough for you and your department to understand. Is there a fucking problem with it?!” Karkat’s stance changed behind his desk, shoulders squaring and feet shifting wider, his expression hardened while his teeth bared, glaring up at Sollux like he was trying to burn him out of existence. The other matched the glare with an equal amount of stubbornness, small red and blue bolts of psionic energy flashing from behind his glasses. Stubbornness, a characteristic that Tavros had picked up on the first time he met him. Not a good match against Karkat being as the shorter toll could easily dish out whatever attitude he was given many more times over. These two together made a volatile mix when put in the same room.

“Yeth I got a fucking problem with it. Many problems. All of the problems.” Sollux snarled running an exasperated hand through his hair. “You’re athking for the fucking impothible.”

Karkat physically bristled at that. “One, I’m not asking, I’m ordering. And two, I’m not asking I’M FUCKING ORDERING. See what I did for you. I said it twice. Maybe now my point will sink in twice as fast.”

Tavros watched from the side, still seated in the chair, unsure if it was safe to get up and leave or not. He opted for not as voices began to be raised.

The Spymaster had been coming here for the last month, on and off, to apparently have shouting matches with the General over issues of collaborating between their branches.  Subjects over conflicting intrests that could reach an almost hearing-duct shattering degree. It was assumed around the base that they were black for each other but it never verified and no one really had the gall to ask. Tavros himself didn’t put much stock into the rumors. He could easily guess why they were practically at each other’s throats, well now more than ever. The stress of the sudden grinding halt of war from the armistice had thrust them both into a political and military powder keg that was slowly consuming the front line. For a good reason. It seemed today they finally reached a boiling over point.

 “But—”

Without warning Karkat slammed his fists down on the desk so hard Tavros was sure the desk would snap in two. “There is not going to be any fucking ‘buts’ about it, Captor.” Sollux only blinked, so unfazed by the aggression that he even adjusted his glasses as Karkat continued. “There will be no ‘buts’, no ‘I can’t’, no ‘I forgot’,” He bellowed, hands ticking off finger by finger. “Pull them out. All of them.”

Sollux frowned, lisp warbling his strained words. “I may be Thpymaster and all around geniuth but what you’re athking for, General, would take no less than thix months. Even if we used the hivemindth to communicate, to call back our bridge agents alone would take at least two weekth.”

Karkat raised his index finger. “You get one extra.”

Tavros watched as Sollux leaned forward in his chair, bicolored eyes wide. “Are you crazy?” He breathed, not as in insult but as a genuine question. “You want me to try pulling out theveral Agents-of influence, onesth that took thweepth to plant into key positionth mind you , not to mention how many Agents-in-place and not to risk compromising and-or blowing their cover while doing it?”

 Karkat’s jaw clenched in the brief following silence. Tavros was sure he was grinding his fangs hard enough to crack diamond. “We have a chance here, Captor, if any of your agents are found out—”

“They won’t,” Sollux said with an exasperated wave. “God, KK, Think about what you’re asking, ordering, me to do. Shutting down half of our network in three weeks? Do you even have the authority? ”

Silence.

The yellowblood then slumped back into the chair, chuckling, pinching the bridge of his nose under his red-and-blue glasses. “You’re insane.”

Karkat clicked his tongue and turned to the window. “One of the definitions of sanity is the ability to tell the real from the unreal, Captor, and I think this peace is very real.”

“And what if it isn’t, huh?” Sollux snapped, anger visibly rising. “What if those coldbloods stab us in the back? That would make you the craziest troll this side of the planet. My department would be as blind as Terezi and half as informed, without any relays of information.”

The shorter toll snapped back around, nearly lunging over the desk and grabbed the collar of the Gemini’s shirt and yanked him to his feet. “Since we are taking hypotheticals, I got a fucking good one for you. One that might rock your little world so hard that pieces of your think pan might fill in those huge gaps in your thinking called logic!” He bellowed. “What if it is real? What if, because of your astronomically large ego and utter wiggler-like stupidity, that this treaty falls through the nearly countless cracks that already exist for it?”

Sollux spluttered, unable to come up with a rebuttal.

“That’s what I thought.”

The argument stalled though the tension in the room remained.

Tavros saw his chance and took it. He stood up and Sollux’s eyes fell on him for the first time since he entered. His lip then curled into a sneer of disgust like he tasted something sour.

Pulling Karkat’s hands off him he turned to leave. “I’ll get it done, _Sir_.” He said, going out of his way to bump shoulders when he passed Tavros. “Excuse me, _Hero._ ”

That word hurt, ached, like a blade to Tavros’ pusher and coming from Sollux’s mouth felt like it was being twisted. The door was shut with an equal amount of force it had been opened with and the hinges rattled.

A silence took hold, longer this time. Karkat was the first to break it.

“He still hasn’t forgiven you, has he?”

Tavros shook his head. “I’ve apologized more times than I can count, not even Aradia can get through to him.”

A scoff. “Getting through to him is like kicking a brick wall, probably going to break every bone in your foot before you make a crack. I’m surprised your morail still spends time around him.” His voice then got soft, strange looking when coming from him of all people. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Yes but… Even if the rest of the world believes you, what’s it worth when the one person you want to, doesn’t?”

Karkat nodded and pulled a timepiece from the breast pocket of his jacket and checked it. “You have to get going soon, Nitram. You may have a mission for peace on your head but those old mean jackasses at the station wait for no one. Not even a sorry fucker with the responsibilities of a government on their heads.” He chuckles. Tavros shook his head chuckling right along with him.

Putting the watch back in his pocket, Karkat clicks his heels and gave a stiff salute. “Colonel Nitram.”

Tavros did the same. “General Vantas.” And left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a music link up in this chapter now. Opinions?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how my update schedule will be like. I'm experimenting with music and sound effects for this fic. Click the links when you see them. Will add some to the first chapter. I would like your opinions on the music. Let me know it the comments or on the tumblr.

Tavros stood, his weight forcing his boots already ankle deep in the thickest mud even deeper, his headset lit on his ear, brown eyes blinking against the heavy rain. His first fresh air in weeks, and it felt like a fog had lifted from his mind. He brought a hand to his head, trying to dislodge the uneasy sensation he had in his stomach. Blood dripped down the front of his uniform, drawing long rainbow streaks that mixed with the rain like so much transparent watercolor paint. He felt his head shake as though he was denying something. “This is… wrong.” The alarm sounded so distant, so melancholy. Like a wiggler’s sobbing. As he glanced over at the troops, the expressions on their faces slowly came into focus. He stared mutely at them. They looked terrified. Then he felt it, an inferno igniting his whole left side and the world began to spin…

“Tavros.” A snap of fingers in front of his face. “Stop fidgeting. Relax.”

Tavros looked to the seat across from him just in time to see Aradia sit back down across from him. Her voice pulling him from the hypnotic passing scenery outside the window. The repetitive _click-clack_ of the rails had tickled away at some buried memories, as if the very sound was reaching into his mind with ice cold digits and shuffling a deck. Being brought back down replaced his dazed state with a hollow emptiness where the only feeling left was confusion. “What?”

“Your legs.” She said, motioning a finger to the floor. “They’re shaking.” He looked down. Indeed, his feet were tapping in a way that made his legs shake.

He didn’t realize he had been doing it. Tension had held him tight since the journey began and only got worse the closer their destination was. His joints wound up like a spring, muscles flexed and ready for the start of some non-existent battle. Even the slight front of gung-ho bravado he left the station with disappeared in a brief pop and fizzle, like a single firecracker set off in the dark. He now thoroughly regretted every form of confidence that he pretended to have in Karkat’s office. He pulled away from the window to more comfortable spot and laid Terezi’s ‘going-away present’ across his legs to soothe their nervous movement. She had dropped the cane sword in his arms just before he got on the train; a smoothly polished length of wood with a crystal head. “Sorry. Didn’t even notice.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Aradia sighed, shaking her head in that odd way when she was trying calmer of them both. “Not for something like that. Just calm down. If the highbloods are as perceptive as they say, they will walk all over you.”

Tavros winced at that. She was right. He took a deep breath, several before speaking, not feeling any better for it. He needed to review. “Could you run the schedule by me again?”

“Of course,” She nodded, pulling a clipboard out of the side bag in the seat next to her. She flipped through a few pages reading them out while she scanned. “The train will arrive at the station in another hour. We will be meeting a blueblood Corporal by the name of,” Another page flip. “Equius…Zahhak.” She stumbled slightly over the name, unfamiliar with the highblood pronunciation. Not surprising since there was a great dialect gap between the UCM and the Old Empire. She quickly recovered though, and continued. “He will be our escort to the castle, _Mesías_. Our luggage will be separately delivered.”

“Wait.” Tavros cut in, confused by that last one. “Separately delivered? For what reason?”

“To make sure we aren’t carrying any weapons on us I suppose.” Aradia responded with another flipped page. She looked unsurprised, a blank look of acceptance drawing on her face. “A simple counter intelligence technique, pointless against a professional if they were trying. To be honest I would be more suspicious if they didn’t do anything like that.”

“Then why… What if they try to plant something?”

 “I don’t think that is the point. If they wanted to get rid of us they could do it in more obvious ways.” She gave a slight shrug as if the possibility of assassination was no big deal. “I guessing this is more an intimidation tactic than anything. A message.”

Tavros gripped his knee to keep it from shaking. “Saying, ‘we are the one’s in charge’ I bet.”

“Maybe”

Tavros sighed and released his legs to rub his temples. “I just can’t believe it.” He mumbled, looking out the window again, forcing a thin nervous smile curved on his lips. The scenery had changed. Thick forest full of tall and thin trees set in sparse overgrowth replaced the long flat, seemingly never-ending plains and now closed in around the rails. When did that happen? He must have lost track of the time.

“Not even a good sweep ago, I was in some deep trench in the back woods south of nowhere, screaming into a communicator for a medevac for another psionic who had overcooked his powers, watching their blood dribble out of their ears. Praying that I could save at least one more life in the many that were dying around me. Imperial ships shooting off Solarshells while we were stuck with fucking gunpowder. ‘Hold the line’ our government said. For every highblood that I killed that one would have already taken out five of us. Then in the span of a week, it all stops. No shooting. No bombs. No nothing.”

“Then they, those vultures up in parliament, waste no time forgetting about the dead or the wounded. The ones that fought for them. Not even a goddamn memorial. Instead, I’m chosen for this by a bunch of them, in a meeting that I wasn’t even invited to as a courtesy and dressed up as a diplomat. Not even a choice in the matter. Dishonorably discharged or 'volunteer'.” Tavros gripped the chest of the semi-formal dress uniform, fingers tugging at the multicolored sash like a chain. His symbol boldly struck brown against the pattern. “What were they thinking? What was I thinking? I’m no politician, I’m a solider, a fighter.” 

He ran his claws through his Mohawk unable to stop from getting to his feet. Pacing the small cabin like a guilty prisoner. It felt more like a cell by now. Three steps to the door and three more back to the window. He could walk right now, if only to get some more space to move, if he wanted. Except for some guards, the train had no other passengers. No one would bat an eye if he decided to roam. It was a pleasant thought that lasted all but two seconds.

No. He knew this feeling too well. He needed Aradia and at the rate he was going, a breakdown would crash down on him without anyone around. The impulse of leaving his morail yielded to his desire not to fall apart. Not like this.

“You remember Tiyvex Morian, my last kismesiss? I hated everything about that ugly son of a bitch. His fangs were so screwed up that whenever he smiled the air in his mouth would whistle. High pitched and loud. He knew how much I hated it so he would smile as much as I could when I was around. I would deck him one when he did, right in the mouth as hard as I could. You know what he wanted to do when the war was over? Become a professor of mothergrub biology!”  A chill stab into his bones, cold, angry, and frightful and he tried to ignore it as the sensation warmed up into a burn trapped behind his eyes. He didn’t even realize his voice was rising until it was bouncing off the carriage windows.

“He was a dumb as rock and half as eloquent but he could talk like no one else! No one, not even me, could shut him up! H-HE KEPT TALKING EVEN THOUGH A GRANADE HAD BLOWN OUT HALF HIS RIB CAGE!! STILL MOUTHING SMART ASS COMMENTS WHEN HIS VOICE GAVE OUT!!!!” Tavros heard his voice crack a fraction and the tears quickly followed after, a full storm of emotions breaking down the walls that had been standing for so long.

“HE WAS AN IDIOT BUT HE DESERVES SOMEONE OTHER THAN ME TO REMEMBER HIM! BUT ON ONE DOES! AND HE WASN’T THE ONLY ONE!” He wiped his face with a sleeve taking a few deep breaths, his fists unclenching around the cane he had been swinging around like a mad man this entire time and laid it back across his lap when he moved back down to his seat.

The brownblood chewed on his bottom lip, waiting for her to say something, anything that would be soothing, to keep him from speaking his mind, to keep him from continuing this empty rant that seemed to lack any meaning now that it was out. He kept his head down, two parts shame and three parts mix of bitterness for not saying anything this whole time kept him from looking Aradia in the eyes.

It quickly became obvious that she wasn’t going to say anything, the words that had built on the very edges of his mind worked through his lips. Not so much against his will this time. His voice sounded weaker than he wanted. Weary and tired, rattling at this point. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all just one really cruel dream given to me by a really cruel god and I will wake up back in the trenches, back pressed into the dirt, praying that a shell doesn’t land on my head.” The crystal head of the cane slowly became too heavy to hold on one side and it dropped off his legs. A lack of shits to give and emotional energy had him leave it where it was. “In all honesty I don’t know which would be worse. This being a dream or being real.”

“Tavros.” One beat of silence passed. “Tavros. Look at me.” Two beats of silence passed with no movement. “Please.”

Reluctantly, Tavros achingly raised his head, feeling like it weighed the sum of a ton of metal ore and his neck was a simple wooden crane. His attempt to keep his eyes averted failed the moment he saw her face. Her expression lacked the blank calculation she had been giving the clipboard, in its place a shocked tortured expression, tears obviously being held back and suddenly Tavros realized that he had never told her this. Nothing of the like. He kept so much bottled up and now here he was, dropping all this on her without even so much as an ‘Incoming’. Her shoulders shook, her voice steady as she began, “I’m sorry, Tavros. I had no idea.” She stopped and cleared her throat in that way she did when trying to compose herself. “I feel like I have failed you as a morail. I mean, if anyone should be able to tell when you’re in pain, it’s me yet…” Her voice wavered like she was trying to keep from crying and another cough evened out her voice. “How could I have not noticed?”

The brownblood wanted to open his mouth and tell her it wasn’t her fault, that it was him who should be apologizing. He didn’t get the chance to even move his lips because Aradia had already stood up and wrapped him in a warm hug and placed a pale kiss on his forehead that made him feel limp. “I’m sorry.” She repeated, her initial shaking gone. “I promise you, you’re awake. Don’t question the reality of this, don’t believe this is a dream.”

Her voice turned firm as she spoke, thin but strong arms getting tighter. “And if you ever _ever_ feel this way again, come to me. _Please._ Just _talk_ to me. No matter what, I will be there to show you that this, where we are and what we are doing, is real.”

Tavros just sat there for the longest time, wanting to return the hug but his arms hung at his sides, heavy and useless lead weights. She had taken all the responsibility, put it on herself, and asked him, _begged_ him to just talk about his feelings. Finally, he got his mouth working and said the only two words he could come up with- and even those were horrific understatements-to describe his gratitude for her.   

"Thank you.”

XXX

Even though there was only one troll at the station platform when they arrived, Tavros had still missed him. He didn’t understand how but he somehow didn’t see him until nearly running into the living wall known by the name of Equius Zahhak. Now to his credit, Tavros didn’t immediately panic, when he nearly face-planted into him. In fact, the rather dramatic feelings jam on the train had given him a better emotional footing to face such surprises.

Still, from appearance alone the blueblood looked dangerous.

Shoulder-length black hair and a good one-and-half head on him and Aradia . Every part of his dark blue uniform bulged, clearly a size too small. Even the buttons were held taught, indication of huge muscles underneath. His broad shoulders and almost barrel-like chest seem to dwarf the form of everyone Tavros knew. A broken horn, missing teeth, badly cracked square sunglasses, and a stony gaze brought together the whole intimidating image.

With curt bow to both him and Aradia, Equius told them to follow him to the transport, saying that their luggage would soon follow.

The ride had been short but pleasantly quiet. So much so Tavros caught himself drifting to sleep by the time they had arrived. At least, he had been falling asleep until they stepped off the carriage and he saw the castle for the first time.

The construction dwarfed every building he had ever seen. The double doors loomed over the short staircase leading up to it. Each step solid white marble, smooth and glistening. Towering spires and walled ramparts, all looking ancient but well-preserved.

“Follow me, please.” Tavros nearly jumped when Equius spoke, momentarily forgetting where he was. He looked at Aradia standing at his shoulder, who also appeared to be coming down from a similar feeling of awe, following close to him as they ascended the steps.

When they entered the main hall, again Tavros found himself trying to absorb every detail within his sight. Six large stone pillars evenly spaced along the center, supporting a ceiling with what had to be the largest chandelier in existence. As he followed up the left set of double staircases, huge tapestries came into view, stitching design depicting some kind of important event. The railing of the staircase exquisitely engraved with flowers and vines, never a one quite the same. Each petal elegantly depicted to accent the artistic feel of the castle.

The blueblood continued to a carpeted hall and pointed to the last door at end of it. “These are your rooms. I hope they are furnished satisfactorily.”  He rumbled, pulling a key ring from his pocket and passed them over to a still dazed Tavros.

He realized the blueblood was talking to him only when Aradia swooped in to make up for his silence, smiling as she took the key. “Thank you very much.”

Tavros noticed the blueblood’s eyebrow rise above his shades but whatever was on his mind stayed there. “My master sends his apologies for not being here to greet you. The final details of the ball scheduled for tonight have taken longer than he expected. He wishes for you to attend as the guest of honor.”

That…was not expected.

“Ball?” Tavros echoed, the news grabbing his attention.

The blueblood simply nodded.

“But our bags, our luggage, isn’t with us.”

Another nod. “It will be here momentarily. Please, wait in your rooms until they arrive. I have some work that needs finishing.”

Tavros opened his mouth to get at least one more question in but Equius had left, already half way down the hall.

A ball, with all kinds of highbloods in attendance?  Of course with highbloods in attendance, what else was there? From the look on Aradia’s face, she hadn’t expected that either.

As soon as they entered the room, Tavros dropped into one of the coons, not caring about his clothes.

It was a few minutes before their luggage came with a message from the servant that brought it that the party was going to start in about 2 hours. Two hours sooner than Tavros would have liked. He pulled himself out of the coon and made his way to the abolution. One quick shower later, and he was standing in front of the mirror, threading the last button though his cuff. He tugged on it a little before crossing both arms behind his back and tried to look as stoic as possible.

"Here." Araida said, handing him his medal. "To tie everything together."

Tavros sighed as he pinned it to his chest.

This was not going to be fun.

XXX

Tavros felt he had been right about that assumption he made about two hours ago, when he relaxed enough to fall asleep. Now, only 15 minutes in, he felt cramped, his nerves put on edge.

The grand ballroom could not be described by any definition of small. It matched the constant that encompassed the rest of the castle. Staggeringly huge. Aradia had summed up both of their thoughts in one sentence. _One could walk from end to end and find themselves a few pounds lighter before reaching half the distance._ Exaggeration? Yes, but not by much.

 The far right wall was embellished with large windows in intricately detailed frames that stretched to the celling, allowing the moonlight to filter in. The celling itself towered above, its surface lined with delicate chandeliers –not as big as the one in the entrance hall–that sparkled from the moonlight, providing an absolutely dazzling spectrum of bright rainbow illumination around the room.

He had no doubt that he could fit his whole hive, windmill and all, in here and not even graze the incandescent structures above. So volume wasn’t the problem nor the reason for his discomfort.

The scores of dirty looks and nasty glares thrown his way were a constant reminder that, almost every troll here would gladly eviscerate him on the spot and then laugh about it afterwards. Only thing preventing anyone from being the first to rend his abdomen open was that no one wanted his ‘brownblood’ staining their elegant military dress, or at least that’s what he guessed. The armistice didn’t hurt or maybe it was his status as guest of honor.

What sane troll had thought this was a good idea?

The looks compensated greatly for any lack of physical violence. Someone raising their voice to brag or compare tallies of lowblood soldiers fallen by his/her hand whenever he was in earshot or making a certain body movement that seemed innocent enough until it conveniently exposed a weapon hidden within the folds of their layered clothing.

Trying to scare him away.

These “subtle” reminders, while “hinting” at aggression, was nothing compared to the air of mutual loathing and unilateral insanity between the highbloods themselves that frothed and churned among the pleasant-sounding chatter. The air tingled with so much tension it made him afraid to breathe. Not even the [**_music_**](http://playingitlikeachessboard.tumblr.com/post/52374618827/these-subtle-reminders-while-hinting-at) seemed to dissipate it.

Tavros adjusted the standing collar of his rather plain dress uniform. Along all the gold braid, long ribbons, and, on one particularly flamboyant troll, feathers. Just another thing that made him stand out. The single medal pinned to his lapel, a medal that he didn’t even feel he deserved, stuck out compared to the configurations of gold fruit salad that seemed to absolutely encase everyone else’s chests banded together with strings and straps attached to hand-made colorful dresses and shiny jewelry competing for attention with the bright pelts, fluffed tail feathers and glistening scales mother nature had imbued.

He clutched the round head of his cane sword a little harder, just to make sure it was still there. Terezi had given him the three and a half feet of concealed steel as, what she had called, ‘an odd good luck charm’. A charm that became a miniscule solace for his unease.

Forcing a calm demeanor, he circulated himself around the room, engaging in light conversation, lines that had been practiced a dozen time minutes before the party, and sipping the large bumper of champagne he had received hoping to choke back the ever-present anxiety with words or alcohol, whichever took effect first. Soon he settled into a rhythm. Talking to whoever seemed approachable and would take a sip of his drink.

Chatter, sip, prattle, sip, nod, sip, and smile. Rinse and repeat when necessary.

His endeavor to look relaxed and un-intimidated seemed to work. The blood-pusher seizing looks and brow moistening weapons displaying  occurred less and less as it became apparent coercion began to lack in effect. Either that or they thought of him to be a complete imbecile that would blow the deal without their efforts.

 Placing another one of his empty flutes on the tray of one of the many stewards that hovered nearby, who looked silently scandalized as the brown blood plucked another glass full off the silver platter.

He raised the drink only to feel a slight tug on the cuff of his sleeve, gently separating the drink form his lips. He glanced over his shoulder at Aradia. She gently shook her head, casting troubled glance at the glass between his fingers. He immediately understood what the look meant and set the drink on a nearby table next to him, nodding in acknowledgement. She smiled at him, eyes glistening behind her delicate curled eyelashes, before going back to scanning the room.

Tavros stole a momentary look back at the flute of liquor on the table. He had no idea what he would do without her, helping him keep time as they tap-danced fire around this powder keg disguised as diplomacy.

The last thing he needed was to be plastered while doing it. A favorable first impression couldn’t be gained from an exhibition of inebriation.

The sounds of the ballroom lulled and Tavros was immediately aware of Aradia was back at his side. “He’s here.” She whispered. He replied with another silent nod, steering his attention to the crowd which had begun to swirl and part, his mind running through his lines at warp speed. _Hello. How are you? Nice to meet you. my name is…_

The host and his future matesprit had arrived.

Whatever Tavros had been expecting, it hadn’t been the person who the crowd began to part for.

He looked thin, fragile even. An adjective that Tavros never thought he would use to describe a highblood. Every part of him shaped sharp and angular. Thin pointed jaw accommodating an equally gaunt face. His height seemed to stretch him even thinner. The troll had to be 6 feet 6 inches, at least. More than a head taller than him.

The highblood’s uniform could only be described as surprisingly plain like his, even plainer when visually compared with his college’s military dress. The only difference was that the uniform Tavros put on had the one modest medal unlike the highblood. Not a single medal or ribbon decorated the chest of the long sleeved indigo coat with grey buttons and standing collar with trousers of the same shade. A simple black belt with a Capricorn buckle around his waist holding it all together on his lanky-looking body, a weighty looking purple saber threaded though the belt loop of his hip. Oily black whips of hair spilled down from the rim his peaked cap that only just stopped short of covering his face. His movements were slow, eyes distant, his walk a little off. Slow and paced as if he had a rhythm to his walk.

A troll followed close behind, Equius trailed behind the highblood, his expression solid and unmoving.

The indigo noticed Tavros as he approached and his lips pulled into a lazy smile that would have seemed almost genuine if it he hadn’t been giving it to everyone else in the room. His voice rattled somewhat, gravely but smooth when he spoke.

“Colonel Nitram!” Unlike the other voices he’d been hearing all evening, Makara’s voice didn’t seem to hold any malice. “Name’s Gamzee Makara, General.”

He nodded the affirmative. “Tavros Nitram, Colonel.” Tavros’ hand already halfway to a salute before the highblood shook his head and waved his hand down. “Let’s not be all and stuck up in the formalities and just shake hands, motherfucker.” He said as he stretched out his arm.

Tavros froze, his arm hitching somewhat as he lowered his arm and quickly recovered from the break in etiquette and took Gamzee’s hand . “Nice to meet you.” The highblood smiled a little wider, exposing his long sharp fangs.

“Would I be right in assuming you know my guard?” He then stepped to the side motioning to Equius.

Tavros nodded slowly. “He picked us up.” One thing to be said. The General knew who to pick for self-protection.

Gamzee noticing his reaction, gave a hearty honking laugh and clapped a hand on the guard’s shoulder. “He’s a big motherfucker, ain’t he?” The aforementioned guard looked like he jumped a little at the contact but it went by too fast to be sure.

“This motherfucker has saved my life on more than one occasion. Never would be here without him.”

The blueblood began to look more and more uncomfortable the longer the indigo went on but the General seemed to be completely unaware of that fact. “Been keeping up with me so long he ought to be my ‘rail by now.” At the mention of the possibility of a pale relationship, Tavros watched as the troll visibly shivered, a very slight sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead as the indigo made another honking laugh.

“Please highblood,” He implored, “You give me too much credit.” Gamzee didn’t take his gloved hand off the other, instead drumming his fingers a little on his shoulder while pursing his lips and shaking his head. “More like I don’t give you enough, my horsebro.” He sighed wearily. “How many times do I have to say it, settle your shit when a motherfucker be sayin’ nice things about you. No need to get your pan in a twist over the miracle of complements.”

The blueblood visibly wilted under the soft chiding. “Yes highblood.”

If Tavros could say he hadn’t watched the exchange without some amazement, he would be lying. Not only a troll, but a highblood, complementing someone of lower standing but with the absolute laid back attitude of the General was something that he had never seen before.

“Yes, he is quite large.” He replied, somehow reminded of Aradia’s presence next to him. He gestured to her. “This is my guard, Aradia Megido. Since we’re doing introductions, I mean.” As he introduced her she lowered her body into an elegant curtsy to Gamzee. “She has been a pillar of mine for most of my li- …a long time. She has also saved my life several times through the sweeps, both as a comrade in arms and my mora— ” Tavros winced a little as he stalled again. Should he risk bringing to light another chink in his already brittle bearings?

Opting for some honesty than none he finished hoping that his hesitation wasn’t noticed. “…My very old friend.” He finished, ignoring the withering look from Aradia as he did so.

Gamzee just nodded, bright violet eyes switching from Aradia to Equius, who upon seeing his charge’s look, stiffly bowed to Tavros in return, a few seams of his formfitting outfit audibly popping as he did.

It was apparent to Tavros, almost painfully so, that the firsts small amount of respect he had been shown all night was forced. He shared a uncomfortable look with his morail before hesitantly dipping his head in acknowledgment unease working into his acid sack again. Or was that maybe the liquor catching up with him?

The blueblood straightened to his full height, a light tint of navy coloring his cheeks and noticeable veil of moisture on his forehead.

“Since we know each other’s names now, let’s toast with a motherfucking drink.”  Gamzee raised his hand, motioning to a servant holding a half-full tray of glasses.

Almost immediately the steward approached and handed all four of them glasses of-Oh Great- more champagne then melded back into the crowd.

Reluctantly, Tavros raised his glass. “To a peaceful future.”

“To a peaceful future.” Gamzee echoed.

The brownblood took the smallest sip as possible watching in slight amazement as the General threw back the drink like a shot glass. Aradia and Equius both took one respectful sip and no more.

“So tell me, what do you think of the festivities, Colonel?” Gamzee asked, raising his hand again signaling for a refill.

“Well it’s been an… interesting evening.” Not exactly a lie. “I haven’t had a moment of, um, monotony yet.” Tavros admitted.

“That’s good.” The indigo took a moment to drink his now refilled glass, sipping more slowly, while less elegantly than the first time. “It’s always good to hear about a brother getting’ his motherfucking mirth on.”

Tavros twisted the stem of his own swirled glass between his fingers, observing the liquid as it rolled and bubbled with each motion as it fizzed. “So,” He fished, saying the first thing that came to mind, “What, uh, did you do before enlisting, General Makara?”

The indigo’s hand, which had been rising to take another sip, froze inches away from his lips. His eyebrows stitched together in a slight frown as he began to process the question.

Tavros inwardly flinched. Had he committed some kind of social gaff or telegraphed the wrong thing after asking something so private? Had he been too bold? Dismayed as silence passed between them, he took a nervous swig from his champagne.

Then the General’s expression softened into a bemused grin. “I don’t uprightly remember what shit I was getting into.” His eyes widened as if he was struck by a realization, his gaze lost its vapid glaze and, for a brief moment, the indigo’s purple irises shined with an extraordinary vitality. Then it faded so quickly, leaving Tavros to wonder if he had just imagined it.

With that the space between the two of them went silent, silence that was soon filled by the sounds of laughter and dozens of conversations.

Gamzee pointed to the nearby balcony. “How ‘bout we get some motherfucking privacy? All this noise is wreaking my wicked chill.” Before Tavros could answer however, Gamzee was already walking to it, his guard following closed behind. “The spot is much quieter.” The indigo continued. He then winked at as the door was open for him. “And we can get all the time we need to get to know each other.”

Tavros followed, eager to get out of the ballroom and away from the hostile eyes.

Gamzee had been right, the balcony was silent, save for the distant chirping of crickets and the dull roar of ocean waves.

Two chairs and a small table sat in the center of the landing slat. No. Balcony. Damn, this highblood vernacular! Tavros waited for the General to pick one first before sitting down himself. Laying the cane across his lap, he sighed, pulling off his peaked as he settled into the chair, grateful that his legs finally had a chance to rest and savored the air of the night breeze. The chill that ran across his sweaty scalp was relaxing. He hadn’t realized how hot it had been inside.

The style was surprisingly unassuming compared to the ornamental design of the rest of the palace. The stone was plain, hand- carved, and weather worn. A steward came out with a pitcher of water and two glasses and, after placing them on the table, quickly left.

After doing an area check and testing the water, both of their guard excused themselves, shutting away behind the glass doors.

Then they were alone, at least in the loosest sense and Tavros found himself again fumbling through his mind trying to come up with something to say, more than a little relieved when Gamzee beat him to the punch.

“Ain’t they beautiful?” He asked, tilting his head up to the heavens. Tavros, realizing what he was talking about looked up as well.

The stars were clear and sharp, perfectly contrasting the night horizon. The whole sky blazed brighter than Tavros could ever remember seeing in his life. So bright it almost threatened to overpower the moon with its color. Blue. White. Gold. Purple. Orange. The whole horizon glistened.

He cleared his throat, doing his best to assume the character of the ever-serious officer. “The stars? I guess they are but I’m not a painter or a poet, so what is my concept of beauty?”

Gamzee made a sound, a soft honk. “Well, it’s all in the eye of the motherfucker who sees it.” He then turned to face him, his eyes no longer half-lidded and distant. “It can come in so many forms, it hurts the think pan to try and contemplate all that shit.”

Tavros nodded in acknowledgement, completely lost in the troll’s voice. He didn’t speak normally. There was a fluctuating tone in his speech. The rhythmic fluidness to it was captivating, as if he were singing a song. ‘Enchanting’ would be the perfect word. Odd but relaxing.

“Her majesty expects me to cull you.”

The spell broke. Tavros went stiff.

“What?”

“I said, Her imperial majesty expects me to cull you.” Tavros’ eyes shot from the sky to the General.

Gamzee kept his face upward the sky, a smile on his lips like he hadn’t said anything particularly unpleasant.

Questions exploded in his head. hundreds of thousands of them bounced around his pan mingling with the pure unfiltered horror that kept his lips sealed shut. He swallowed as if he could choke down the alarm and break it down in his belly. It didn’t work and his fear only got worse as Gamzee continued.

“She got most all our infantry and artillery positioned around your boarders, waiting for the signal. Once I kill you, she will blitz the largest cites then work down to the smaller ones.”

Tavros felt his chest tighten so hard he was sure his blood pusher would explode. Suddenly Terezi’s good luck charm felt heavy on his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the best beta readers. Thank God for them.  
> Update: Artwork done by a great artist,[ ** _Soma._**](http://ask-the-pbandj-boys.tumblr.com/post/55012450935/a-fanart-to-a-really-great-fanfiction-its-a)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is shorter than normal. Kinda off my groove. Next chapter will be longer.

If one could describe the situation in one sentence, it would be the eloquently put _We’re fucked._

Tavros knew the uselessness of crunching numbers. The requirement of probability or luck equaled nothing in his mind. They were far too outnumbered. If what the General said was true then he and Aradia had no possibility to make it through the evening, much less home, alive. His fingers instinctively curled around the clear orb head of the cane, an anchor that kept him grounded and aware against the waves of fear crashing in the rocks of his mind. When he finally managed to force out a question, _the_ question, his jaw slowly filled with the concrete weight behind the words. His voice cracked before he could speak. He swallowed and licked his lips, only noticing his mouth had gone dry when his tongue felt like sandpaper brushing over cracked rock.

“Why?”

“I don’t rightly know.” Gamzee shrugged, reaching to the table and poured a glass of water. “Why does one motherfucker fight another?”

“N-No, I-I mean…” Tavros swallowed again before his voice had a chance to squeak. “Why this party? This farce? If the Condesce didn’t want peace, then what was the point of this show?”

It was a question that needed to be answered. The ceasefire, the gesture of peace, the proposal, had that all been to waste time to set up an ambush or… a counter attack.

The answer to his question hit him hard and his acid sack did a nauseating flip as Sollux’s words came back to him. He had been right. They had planned to betray from the start. The brownblood couldn’t even begin to count how many people were celebrating back home. Citizens and soldiers alike would be drinking themselves into a stupor right now, elated over the ceasefire alone. Defenses would be low. An attack now, no matter how little damage it did could turn the tide of the war and end the centuries-long stalemate.

Tavros choked down the rock in his throat as Gamzee gave him the exact answer he had already reached.

“Distraction.” He mumbled, still staring at the sky as he took a swig from his glass. “To maneuver the motherfucking truth device and swap on the contagious enlightenment in her token view.” Gamzee clicked his tongue and leaned even further back into his chair and what little thought Tavros put towards trying to understand what that meant left the moment his eyes fell on the piece of curved steel on the highblood’s hip.

His bloodpusher hammered so hard the air caught in his chest, forcing out a wheeze and chills stampeded up his spine. The thought of that saber grating though his ribs or ripping through his abdomen centered any fringes of panic to the most immediate danger. He had to strike first. He knew from experience that a prolonged fight with any highblood would not end well. The longer it went the more elements went in the enemy’s favor. The weapon difference was a problem too. His cane sword was a blend of traditional browncaste forging and teal rapier balancing. Due to the straightness of the design, it could cut but a slashing motion was difficult, an issue that a saber lacked. Not including, the weight of said weapons was different. A heavy saber combined with highblood strength made it clear that whatever Gamzee _may_ -and that was a huge _may_ -lack in speed, he could make up for in destructive power. A light blade, no matter what forging, could only take so many hits before it shattered and with a blade like that even if it didn’t break, Tavros knew for a fact his wrist would.

He had to keep Gamzee talking, if only to distract him and hit him while he was off guard. A clean swiped to the neck was all he would need.

“I don’t understand.” The cane sword burned in his hands despite the ice swelling in his veins as he reached down the three inches along the wood to the blade catch, each millimeter passed over feeling like a mile.

“Propaganda, my brother.” Gamzee answered, finishing his water and pouring himself another. “False messages spread to the masses.” Tavros’ abdomen rolled as Gamzee finally looked back at him over the table, his eyes now clear under wild hair. “With the two of us as the subject.”

His chest still pounded but even the very real fear couldn’t keep a morbid curiosity from setting in. Something about the tone which sounded almost melancholy, the meaning of his words, the purple irises, gave Tavros pause just as he twisted the cane head. “Why would she need propaganda?”

“To give us all a reason to be aiming for your protein chutes.” Gamzee murmured, bringing the cup to his lips, eyes turning back skyward. “She ain’t been in good standing lately. Many are worn down to tired with this being our fight. Even my most reverent brothers and sisters, devout to the colors highest of the high have been whispering salacious blasphemes behind safe walls.”

Tavros frowned, not quite sure if he heard that right and reworked the statement over the word mill in his mind.

  _Not in good standing_ meant she was in a bad position. Political most likely. Simple. _Tired of  this being our fight._ ‘Our’ had to mean the highblood imperials. Replace ‘fight’ with ‘war’ and it became as clear as crystal. _Devout._ Faithful, loyal.To what? The Condesce or the caste system? Both or either meant approximately the same. Not quite sure about _salacious._ ‘Tempting’, maybe? _Blasphemes_ could mean disrespectful or insulting. _Behind safe walls_ had to be safe places or secret areas or something similar.

_The Condesce is in a bad political position. Many highblood’s are so tired of the war that even the most loyal are taking bad things in secret._

Suddenly, Tavros understood nothing. The words he put together worming their way into his thinkpan and, with a simple push of reasoning, knocked all sensations of fear out of his body leaving one huge question mark in its place. The highbloods were tired of the fight too?

“She be telling me to spread the sinful untruth and weave the net of enlightenment to snare you into a guise of killer who attempted to cull my ass.” Gamzee continued. “She will be twisting it further like a knife a wound and cast the net I weaved over your people with some speech of ‘The lowbloods didn’t want our peace’ ‘They took our kindness for weakness’ or some long-winded  blood pumping load of shit that gets the rage flowing. “ He knocked the water back in a similar fashion to the champagne and placed empty cup on the table. “And just like that,” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. “The war is back on.”

The full understanding crashed down on Tavros like so much rain and he couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped his lips nor the subsequent blurting of said revelation. “She wants to kill two wingbeasts with one stone.”

It may have not been a question but the indigo nodded, head no longer up but straight ahead, looking over the sea. “No one would be making any inquires either. Like even how the motherfucking military was even prepared for a counter attack? Not even one.” His expression darkened and his hands clenches down on the arm rests of his chair, a withheld anger vibrating in his tone that made Tavros’ skin crawl and bring him back to the reality of his situation.

He swallowed, the coppery taste of blood ran over his tongue even though he knew he wasn’t bleeding , all the more potent by the paralyzing fear. A dull, burning heat spread through his body, and the muscles in his jaws tightened.  Awareness of aggression brought back the sensation of the cane sword in his hands. He tried to clear his mind, small pinches of pain throbbed from the tightness his joints held.  The last question left him as he gripped the cane’s round head, thumb pushing out a full inch of steel, and his mind memorizing the information he had been told. If he could manage to get to a phone or some type of communicator, he would have to use what little time he could gain and send a warning back home. The syllables came calm, quiet, and smooth. “Are you going to kill me?”

Pointedly, almost exaggeratingly slow, Gamzee’s turned to him. “No. That wasn’t even a plan that stroked my pan at all.”

In that moment, someone somewhere cut a string and Tavros practically went boneless in the chair. The word overwhelmed would have been a gross understatement to sum up his emotions. Gamzee, noticing his reaction, went stiff and put his hands up in a ‘I surrender’ motion, eyes going wide. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare a brother like that. Should have started out with the imperatives first before dropping the hard info on you.”

Tavros slumped forward, both hands clasped around the top of the cane, head resting on his knuckles, using it as a prop to keep from sliding out of the chair. “That would have been helpful.” Tavros chuckled, panting hard, eyes closed. He winced at the phantom pain that echoed from his palms, circulation interrupted by the iron grip he held for so long. “It is a great relief that neither my blood or my morail’s is going to be splattered all over this balcony.”

His voice came out weaker than what he would have liked but at this point he didn’t care. He was still alive and that was enough to subdue and reminder of posturing or appearances. He wanted to jump and cheer to the sky but the state of mental exhaustion that held every bone told him that if he moved away so much as a millimeter from this cane, he will face-plant right into the stone. Tavros snorted to himself. Like he would even try.  A hand gingerly placed itself on his back and then quickly snatched away when he twitched at the contact.

“Sorry. I really am.” Tavros still had his eyes closed but he could hear the sad expression behind it.

The rush of adrenalin began to wear off and he could feel his bones again. “I thought for a moment the last thing I would hear is that blade leaving it’s scabbard.” He motioned at the blade on the other’s hip, watching as Gamzee groped around as if he had completely forgotten about his weapon. Once his hand found it his eyes got even wider. “I didn’t mean to strike a wicked power over you.”

“It’s fine.” Tavros began. He prepared to say more until a thought jerked him out of what was left of his limp state. Immediately, he sat back up and turned to the indigo, who, in turn, jumped not expecting such a quick movement. “What about The Condesce and her orders to kill me? You would be next.  And what about the force around the UCM borders?”

To his surprise, Gamzee laughed. “It wasn’t an official order.” He snorted through several hard honks. “Given to me under the table, all hush-hush like. No one but her and those present be aware of this. Can’t confirm or deny with at that cloak and dagger going on. For all I know, she could have been telling me to kill you or slam a cold one.”

He kept laughing for a solid thirty seconds with intermittent honks every so often and, once he calmed down, wiped a purple tear off his cheek and cleared his throat. “She can’t do shit. To your country or to me. Anything that I was told to do tonight can’t even hold weight against me. For all her double dealing and scheming, the plan was full of more holes than she has hair to comb.” He made a few more honks before he completely relaxed. “As for the soil that your people sit on. She can’t make the infantry can’t even step over a line drawn on a motherfucking map without screwing herself over, too many of her strongest allies want this war to be over.” Gamzee said making a small wave with his hands as if the motion could accurately describe the intricacies politics. “Too many interested eyes would be turning her way if she court-martials a General over disobeying an order that don’t exist.”

He pulled his chair closer beside Tavros and put a hand on his shoulder. Grip firm but calming. “There is a lot of technical shit to sift through in the next few weeks. Bothers my pan just talking about it but once we sign that treaty and consummate the red, the peace is assured.” Tavros felt his face burn at the mention of consummation. Crap. What was he? Six sweeps? Don’t blush like a wiggler, he had a kismesiss for crying out loud. One that he had gotten pretty far with. One that he had never…

Tavros shook his head to abort that line of thought. Still, it did present an argument that couldn’t be ignored. “But we, you know, j-just met. How can we, uh, pity e-each other?” Double Crap! He started stammering.

That smile spread on Gamzee’s face again. “Well, I ain’t going to be pushing a motherfucker into doing what his heart don’t feel up to but just pretend. I know it sounds like I’m getting a selfish noise going but once we get to the treaty signing and stamp that shit official, we can break it off after.”

Tavros tiled his head, facts coming up in his mind that pressed for answers. “But what about the time after? If we separate it could be used as some kind of political leverage to…” He faded. The prospect scared him, worse than being killed to continue the war. Being alive to see it happen would be so much worse.

Gamzee shook his head. “She can’t. My fellow miracle workers are in some high places, not to mention her next in line is going to make a push for her right, and we are going to get peace done. She won’t be repeating in one sweep.  Not in ten sweeps. Not in a hundred. It will be done. If she tries to break it, she will lose the last bit of support she’s got.”

“It’s a political minefield for her.” The indigo snorted another honk.

Tavros had a brief mental image of a The Condesce walking halfway across an open field before unexpectedly disappearing in a fireball. A pleasing thought.

 “And you’ll turn on her?” It wasn’t so much a question as a fact.

“Yeah. For a dictator on the highest of the high, we lower one’s really got her by the globes.” He chuckled. “Motherfucking Miracles.”

Tavros couldn’t be sure which it was, the fact that The Condesce couldn’t twitch a finger without setting off alarms or the way Gamzee told it but he smiled, the first genuinely happy one he had made since arriving. “Does anyone know how clever you are?”

The indigo winked and put a finger to his mouth, eyes glittering in such a way that told Tavros that what he saw inside was an act.

 “No and don’t be telling nobody.” Gamzee hummed mischievously, standing up and clapping his hands to summon their guards.

Aradia searched Tavros’ face as she came in behind Equius and he opened up his palms, his shoulders raising as the only way to covey his thoughts. He would need a long rest before he could actually feel up to explaining everything. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “Somehow.”

“Alright?” Gamzee grinned, dropping back into his odd distant persona, crooking his elbow to Tavros. “I do be thinking that we are going to have more than an alright time. I think you’ve been placing the harshest of impressions on me and that be something wondrous to behold.”

Tavros detected the faintest twitches from the corner of her mouth, no doubt doing her best to save face in the presence of the highbloods. She probably wanted to do the same thing he wanted. To jump and scream her joy to the heavens.

 “You and your morail are going to enjoy it here.” Gamzee said, lazy smile getting even wider as he crooked his elbow towards Tavros. “So shall we go and get our mirth on tonight?”

Tavros blinked, hesitatingly taking the other’s arm. When had he told her that she was his morail?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took SOOOO long. The ending is kind of lazy and may change later on but as it stands I have sweat over this chapter enough. I have had several writers blocks over the last few weeks. Not to mention I have been sick. So, here we go.

Tavros was a featherweight when it came to alcohol and he wasn’t too proud of a troll to admit it. A fact that had left his mind the previous night when he had drank his share of at least two bottles of champagne alone. A fact that Aradia _may_ have warned him about and he _might_ have ignored her. So when he woke up it didn’t surprise him that his acid sack felt like it contained all the fires of hell, on top of a headache which inevitably had him running to the abolution.

After praying to the porcelain god for the latter part of the hour-Aradia giving him soothing paps the whole time-Tavros cleaned himself up, dressing as well as the hangover allowed, again with his morail’s help. The announcement of breakfast, which came to him by way of a servant to their door, was as welcome as a flamethrower in an oil refinery. Food couldn’t be further from his mind at the moment but he smiled through the pain as he followed the servant to the dining hall. Words couldn’t describe his relief when the saw the lights in said hall were dimmer than they were the previous night. Even the curtains were drawn closed, blocking out the moonlight replaced with light bulbs and candles along the walls.

The table that seated so many the other night had been switched with one simple circular table with two chairs on opposite ends. It looked so out of place in the large dining hall. Gamzee wasn’t here yet, just as good because Tavros didn’t feel he could speak yet without embarrassing himself. The servant motioned to the chair closest to him, excusing herself as he sat down, rubbing his temples in an attempt to nurse the drum set in his skull. A drum set currently being beat on by a deaf hyperactive wiggler barely out of its trials. The same servant that excused herself came back pushing a trolley with-oh happy days- a pot of coffee, a godsend on wheels.  He wasted no time in pouring himself a cup despite the servant’s willingness to pour it for him.

He had knocked back four cups, in the middle of pouring a fifth when the click of a door caught his attention.

Gamzee swayed in, another unique adverb that perfectly described the awkward rocking tilt he made with each protracted step as he approached the table. “Motherfuck.” He sighed, hanging one of his arms over the backrest of the wooden chair, long legs splayed out to the side. His appearance the polar opposite of how Tavros felt. His smile almost shined like the chandeliers above them. Even though the indigo had pounded down six times the amount of liquor than he did he didn’t even seem to be suffering a hangover. In fact, he looked very well rested for a soldier currently  committing treason.

“How did you sleep, bro?” He asked as the servant poured him a cup of coffee, his voice several degrees over the cheery limit Tavros had just now set.

He shrugged, taking another sip from his cup. Fine, I guess. Considering the environment.“

“So not too well?”

Tavros confirmed it with a slight nod.

“Well, that ain’t the least bit shocking.  Not like one to be chill in these surroundings.” Gamzee continued, pouring some cream into his cup then reached for the sugar.

The servant at the table mumbled something about breakfast being served soon but Tavros didn’t really hear or pay attention. He didn’t think he could even stomach anything that didn’t specifically include the ingredient ‘nothing’. He hid behind his cup as Gamzee kept speaking. “That aside, we have a lot of things to be wrapping up but plenty of time with which to prepare it. A month actually.”

Tavros chocked on his mouthful of coffee. “W-What?” He spluttered. He tapped his chest as he coughed. “I thought the treaty signing was in less than two weeks. Why such an extreme delay?”

Gamzee looked at the servant and dismissed her with a wave. “Gilgirl didn’t want peace remember? She didn’t expect for me to getting my disobedience on, much less you still breathing. She don’t even have the final facts inked up. Had to rush to get it drawn up. I mean, what’s the point of one if the fucker writing it is planning on stabbing you in the back?” He finished, spooning sugar into his cup.

“It’s pretty motherfucking hard to hold a pen when you got a gun in one hand and a knife in the other.”

Tavros considered this. It made sense. From what he had been told last night, if things had played out as planned there would have been no need for it. Honestly, it surprised him on just how much her imperial majesty wanted him dead.

He gently placed the china cup on the saucer. “So she’s in quite a spot?”

“Yep.” Gamzee nodded, still adding more sugar to his coffee. “She’s got the poor motherfuckers in Judiciary, making it as we speak. Terms and conditions abounding every letter with all them little details and shit. So, it won’t be finished until a good month later.”

“Um, Gamzee?” Tavros interjected as he finally took note of the table. “That isn’t coffee with cream anymore. It’s coffee and cream flavored sugar.”

The indigo blinked and looked down to the cup as Tavros pointed at the thick, slugged-like slurry inside it. Then he flashed a fanged smile, looking pleased. “Perfect.” With that he brought the cup to his lips, taking a swig before picking up where he left off. “But while that shit is being settled we have a long list of things to be done.”

“Like what?”

Gamzee sighed for a moment, tired and slow as he took another sip. “Cloths to be tailored, decorations to be made, invitations to be sent.” Tavros could easily judge from his tone that he wasn’t looking forward to the work.

Thankfully, breakfast was served before any silence had a chance to set in. A parfait of some sort in a shallow dish was placed in front of him or at least that was what the consistency appeared like at a glance. He had never seen a food so… colorful before. A rainbow spiraled out of the swirled center. Each hue so perfectly define as if it had been tenderly placed on top of one another by hand.

“Don’t like sweets, bro?” Gamzee’s question alerted Tavros to just how long he had been staring. In his best attempt to rally back, he quickly picked up the spoon and scooped some into his mouth.

A strong ambrosia of sweetness hit his tongue, creamy and cool in his mouth, exploding with the flavor of several different fruits, and created an altogether familiar feeling that left him wanting more.

In short, he really _really_ liked it.

It  must have shown on his face because the next thing he heard was the indigo chuckle. “Glad you motherfucking like it.” Gamzee tilited his head to catch Tavros eye, a knowing smile on his lips, charming and analytical all at the same time. “Does wonders for the hangover you’re feeling, bro.”

The spoon froze halfway to his mouth. “How did you know?”

“Well, when a chill brother be all up an wincing every time there is a noise louder than a slitherbeast’s hiss, it can’t be nothing but.” Gamzee responded, his voice sympathetic.

Tavros thought back. Had he really been that oblivious?

As if to say ‘yes’ the wiggler inside his skull did a rim shot off of his temples and he felt his eye twitch. Oh that.

“You’ll want to finish that soon though. We have someone we need to speaking with and the meeting walls ain’t friendly to those who’s liquor hangs over their heads.” Gamzee said, motioning to the already half empty plate.

Tavros put another spoonful in his mouth and swallowed before his spoke. “Who are we meeting?”

“An ally. The sister I mentioned the night before. Deep in deception with us.”

Tavros frowned, trying to remember exactly what he said. “Who is she?”

The indigo General grinned. “You’ll find out soon.”

XXX

Tavros found himself pulling at his collar, partially out of anxiety the bulk of the reason being that the meeting room they had moved to was extremely hot and muggy. Like a busy kitchen being placed in a boiler room with a dash of sauna on the side. Comfortable chairs included. Hell, even the carpet was warm through his shoes. He thoroughly regretted going back to his room to change into his thicker dress uniform.

No room had any right to be this hot. Aradia was just outside the doors with Equius. She might be feeling even worse than he was.

Almost a step away from heatstroke, he concentrated on not vomiting. Thank god for the breakfast he ate or else concentrating would have done him no good.

“You okay?”

 It took Tavros a moment to realize Gamzee was talking to him, which was embarrassing when they were only one’s in the room at the moment. Tavros turned a little in his chair and realized suddenly that Gamzee was leaning towards him from his seat by the window, half-reaching towards him. He sat up straighter and forced a smile, despite the misery of the heat all around him. A smile that he couldn’t hold for more than half a second. It was so miserable in here yet Gamzee looked so comfortable. The indigo wasn’t even sweating and his clothes looked heavier than Tavros’ own.

He flicked at a particularly large drop of sweat, rolling down his face before it went into his eye, finally shaking his head. “No. Ro’e Haloren." Tavros huffed as he fanned his face, then he winced when he realized his lingual slip. He quickly corrected himself. “I mean, it’s far too hot.”

The indigo’s usual lazy smile faded, pressing into a thin line. “I can understand that, bro. She ain’t one for cool spaces."

Tavros nodded, not quite understanding but not wanting to stretch out the subject any longer and flicked away a few more burning drops of sweat. He moved to the armchair next to Gamzee in the hope that if he was closer to the window it might be cooler.

It wasn’t.

"Why do you call me that?" He asked, the desire for a distraction spurring on a change of the subject.

"Call you what, bro?"

"That."

"What? Bro?" Gamzee clarified.

"Yes." Tavros said. “That."

Gamzee sat a little straighter in his chair before answering. “Well, you are my brother in arms only difference being less explosions and too much motherfucking paperwork." His gaze turned to the window, eyes almost glowing. “Both of us are about to start halting a track of hate with a simple pen and inkwell. A wicked union that will be filling the planet with loving, brothers and sisters embracing each other instead of trying to kill. All those miracles happening because of one brave brownblood and one stupid indigoblood."

Tavros felt his face heat up as that gaze came back to him. Maybe he could pass that off as the temperature. Yeah, that’s right. It was still hot in here.

"That makes you my brother in the deepest sense."

Tavros wasn’t quite sure how to take that. On the outset it was a compliment but the way the indigo said it made it sound like something more.

Before he could put together a response The Condesce entered.

Only it wasn’t.

 A smaller spitting image of her threw open the door and strode in from the marble hallway, her webbed ears fluttering with each step. The seadweller took one look in his direction and squealed, practically bouncing past Gamzee and up to his chair, impressive considering the huge movement-constricting dress she was wearing. That was more frills than he had ever seen in his life. Her round face bloomed with an expression of delight. “Gamzee, is this him?"

She didn’t wait for an answer when she bent down and threw her arms around him. “It’s so good to finally meet you." She bubbled. She squeezed like she wanted to lift him, which seemed kind of foolish considering by his estimate she barely came up to his chin. After a few seconds of fruitless straining, she let go, leaving Tavros stunned.

"Wow, you’re heavy!" she stomped playfully, only pretending to be upset for a moment before she clasped his hand in hers, babbling so fast her voice reminded him of water over rapids.

"Sorry! It’s just…Ever since you arrived I’ve been glubbing like crazy about it! I couldn’t make it to the party yesterday! Sorry about that Gamzee! I have so many questions!!!" Her long hair bounced with every syllable.

Tavros found himself at a loss for words, something that was becoming all too common, and couldn’t respond beyond one confused sound.

"Uh…"

The seadweller opened her mouth, readying what would have probably been a bombardment of questions, but a thickly-accented voice cut through the silence before she could ask them. “Fef! Control yourself."

It was only then that Tavros noticed the second seadweller shut the door behind him before moving to stand next to her. His uniform was Naval in style-what a surprise-white with black striped cuffs striking against the purple and gold cape hooked by the epaulettes on his shoulders. His chin was tilted up with an air of superiority, pupils manifesting obvious rays of distaste for him behind thick gold framed glasses, and earfins flaring slightly. He moved closer to her side, his stance almost protective, defensive, shoulders wide and stiff as if he expected an attack at any moment, all focus aimed at Tavros.

The brownblood resisted the urge to sigh.

Great. That’s just what he needed.

“Allow me to get some intros made.” Gamzee said, standing up and motioning to the empty seats for the two to take. “The one being all sour and shit is Rear Admiral Eridan Ampora.  The sister is heiress-to-be Feferi Peixes.” The indigo then made a long slow wave to Tavros. “And this brother that the UCM sent over.”

Tavros stood up as Gamzee spoke and bowed to them, trying set the muscles in his face and not to look as surprised as he felt at the moment. It didn’t take much guess work to figure out who Eridan was but _the_ Heiress? That would explain the resemblance. The Heiress was a co-conspirator? He rolled the lessons he had learned sweeps ago in his head. Wasn’t it the Heiress’ job to continue their predecessors work? If so, why was she helping make the move for peace? Many rumors surrounded of the long-haired highblood, who was sitting across from him. Back home, the title ‘Heiress’ carried weight. A heavy fear.  Araida would be freaking out right now if she knew the girl who had just entered the room was the Heiress.  It was always assumed that since whatever troll was The Condesce next in line, had to be worse, crueler, than the one before. Which made it hard for the mind to even grasp. That she, like The Condesce, talked with things. Things that lived in only the darkest of places. Things that thrived on suffering and pain. There was even a rhyme. It’s repetition etched in the mind of almost every soldier. Hell, he could recite it on command if need be.

_I may not make it to the next moon’s relight,_

_I have given my all to battle and win this fight._

_My body may fail to a weapon’s might_

_But pray my soul stays away from the dark-speaker’s pike,_

_Lest I end up devoured by the one’s that thrive in the night._

Yet, this sweet-faced girl wasn’t anything like the frightened whispers that Tavros would overhear from in the barracks or the short silences in the trenches. She didn’t look like a monster. She didn’t tower over him like an ageless oak. Her eyes weren’t cold like the snowy season, glowing with the power of innocent souls she collected. She looked…Normal.

“Pleased to meet you, your Majesty. Pleased to meet you, Rear Admiral Ampora.” He said, trying to inflect as much of his respectful tone he had been taught to use when addressing authority in the military. He watched Gamzee out of the corner of his eye, only sitting down once he did so first. Breathing in deep, he cleared his throat to keep his voice from shaking before turning to Gamzee. “I didn’t know your ally was royalty.”  

A snort came from the Admiral. “And don’t you forget it.” Eridan snapped, eyes narrowing further delivering a wordless threat so strong it made Tavros’ mouth dry even further. His thick accent extended the length of his W’s adding a wavy quality to his speech. It made it no less menacing though while the seadweller aimed a white-gloved finger at him. “You _will_ speak to us with nothing less than your up-most respect. If I even think your tone isn’t right when you address her I swear I will-”

Feferi cut in, stopping the other mid-rant. “Eridan! Rude!” She crossed her arms, her expression a mix of dull shock and annoyance as if she was scolding him after he’d been told not to do something multiple times. “You can’t threaten him. We’re supposed to be welcoming him. That’s a horrible first impression.”

“What? That was a good first impression.” Eridan looked back at her his palms up and gesturing at Tavros in a ‘See? Look at this’ manner. “You have t’ be clear with these barbaric lowblood’s what you expect a them.”

Feferi’s hand shot to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. “Eridan!” She gasped. “Clam that up now!”

The seadweller leaned back in his chair, his fins flattening, apparently mollified by her tone as she turned back to Tavros. “I am so very sorry about his attitude.”

Tavros didn’t know quite what to say so he went for the safe answer. “It’s fine.”

“No.” Feferi shook her head. “That isn’t fine.” She turned back to Eridan, who immediately shifted in his chair, looking suddenly uncomfortable under her hard gaze. Without turning away, she pointed at Tavros. “Apologize.” The steel in her voice echoed clear as the glass in the window. That was an order.

Now it was Eridan’s turn to look shocked. The sound that left his mouth was an indignant squawk and he nearly bounced out of his chair, eyes going wide, almost looking and sounding like a 1½ sweep old whining to his lusus. “What? Why? Come on, Fef. We’re supposed to be actin’ like a unit here.”

He looked ready to say something else but he flinched back as the Feferi’s fins flared wide. Whatever message she sent kept him from saying anything else.

“Now, Eridan and I want you to mean it.”

The seadweller looked at Tavros, eyebrows pressed in an almost permanent look of disgust.  He looked ready to cut off his own tongue just to keep from saying it. “I apologize ‘bout the things I said. I was outta line.”

Again, for the third time in the span of 15 minutes, he had no clue on what to say. Tavros couldn’t help but see this whole thing as surreal. If someone had told him five sweeps ago that a highblood would be forced to apologize after insulting him, he would have thought that person was insane. But a lot of things had been happening the last few days that he would have believed far too crazy to speak aloud. Maybe this was another thing he needed to get used to. “Apology accepted.”

“Motherfucking inspired.” Gamzee, who had been silent, clapped his hands, his smile breaking down the tension faster than it had time to build up again. “That’s what we need to be doing. Forgiving each other and moving on”

Feferi fins relaxed and she brushed her hands to even out an invisible wrinkle. “As we should.” She quipped. With the excitement in her voice gone, an unexpected regal authority rang in her voice and suddenly it was even harder for Tavros not to picture just a shorter version of the Condesce. “I have been working to gather supporters on the floor so my rule can be secured.” She began. “There are many still undecided but Eridan has been key in helping sway the tide in our favor.” She then paused, looking right at Tavros. “And so have you.”

Tavros hoped he didn’t look as confused he felt.

"She’s losin’ ‘em." Eridan continued, his tense aggression of manner was suddenly nowhere to be seen. “Her not showin’ up at the welcome party didn’t go unnoticed and after the stunt she tried t’ pull, she’s been fumin’ in her own boil.”

Tavros felt his skin prickle at the reminder of his close call. “Word’s got around? How?” He asked.

A strained cough from his side made him look. A glance over to the indigo spoke volumes.

“Gamzee, you didn’t.”

The indigo in question rocked in his seat. His arms were pressed into his abdomen, the corner of his lips quivering like had just thought of a really funny joke and was trying to hold back laughter. If that was the fact, he failed at trying. A loud long and raspy ‘ _honk’_ left his throat and he continued to honk until tears ran down his face staining the white paint. “That’s too bad. Seeming like that cloak was shredded open by the dagger.” He snorted wiping the tears from his eyes. “Too many words can slip off the tongue. Turn into some rumors and spread around.”

“Yeah, an’ she’s been workin’ overtime to do some damage control.” Eridan tugged at his cuffs, looking smug as he did so. “An’ her inattentiveness to us gave me the chance to squeeze every last drop out a this swollen teat she made. I worked my magic on a net of her supporters who’s money to sponge ratio needed a little balancin’. Hook the ear of the Advisor to the Court, feed him a few velvet lined words about how the ‘gesture of gifts would improve her image’ in a way he was sure to regurgitate back to them all.”

 “Motherfucking smart, brother.” Gamzee breathed. “But ain’t she all about showing her vanity atrocious? At least, that’s what my pan recalls.”

Feferi giggled, momentarily ruining the royal image.   “I have eyes and ears all around the palace and she’s been trying to distance herself from both of you and its backfiring. She can’t outright say ‘never mind’, but for her to give you any visible support is tantamount to telling the nobles still on her side that lowbloods are calling the shots now.”  She giggled again, her eyes mischievously bright.  “So she’s testing allegiances, to see who will do best in supporting her.”

“All a them are literally fallin’ over themselves to put out. And fuck me if they aren’t plannin’ to put out. You wouldn’t believe the sheer amount a gaudy junk their goin’ to send over, Gam.” Eridan smirked. “Your servants will need to use the fuckin’ ballroom to store it all.”

“Eridan came up with this all by himself and worked since the party to make this possible.” Feferi chimed. “Brilliant, right?”  Her complement had a visible effect on the other seadweller, who’s fins began to twitch slightly. Odd looking when put to his scowling face.

“Very.” Tavros slowly nodded in agreement, a little lost at the political workings but impressed at how easy it all sounded, especially considering the timeframe.

“The work is putting us closer to healing the world.” Gamzee said, his dull smile widened further as he continued. “In fact, I done set the place where the forgiveness can start healing on a scale tremendous.”

Tavros didn’t think it was possible but Feferi brightened even further at the news. “Oh! So you already have a location picked for the ceremony?”

“The neutralist of grounds, sister. Not one claim to the land. Impartial territory.” Gamzee answered.

Looking ready to explode with questions, Feferi pressed her arms closer to her chest in a failed attempt to contain her excitement and jumped on the one question Tavros had been ready to ask.

“Where is it?”

The answer struck everyone still.

“The Virudan Sanctuary.”

The air left Tavros’ lungs so fast he felt like he had been punched.  There was no way he meant that.

He first looked at Gamzee, searching for some sign that the indigo was joking and found none. Then he looked to the others to see if they had come to the same conclusion and watched as Feferi’s entire face went through confusion, realization, shock, horror, and disbelief in seconds. Even Eridan went from smugness to the edge of seat.

“Are you fuckin’ mental?” The seadweller began, only stopping himself as Gamzee leaned forward. “No. Don’t answer that.” He pushed his glasses higher on his nose with an exasperated wave.  “I already knew you were crazy. I just didn’t know you were insane enough to bumbling into one of the Jade Order’s protective caverns. There is no way you should still be among the livin’.”

“Yeah.” Feferi agreed softly sounding almost breathless and at a loss for words. “I’m sorry Gamzee, but that sounds far too…unbelievable.”

 “It’s all who you know.” Gamzee responded.

“But Gam, those slimeblood’s are fuckin’ nuts.” Eridan stated throwing his arms into the air. He then winced at the kick that Feferi aimed at his shin. “Ow. What the hell, Fef?”

“Eridan! What did I tell you?”

This time however, Eridan wasn’t deterred. “I’m trying to keep Gam from blowin’ this! One brownblood is questionable enough but a least he has been trained! Those Jades are simply batshit. The whole lower spectrum is.”

“Coddamn it, Eridan!”

 The open hostility Tavros had been expecting for the last two days finally began to show itself and though he had been ready, it didn’t make the small boil of anger in his acid sack cool any faster. That sentence managed to insult his intelligence and his mannerisms at the same time and the boil began to burn hotter as Eridan continued.

 “You know I’m right, Fef.” The other seadweller sunk back in the chair, a confused frown in his face like he didn’t know why she snapped at him. “The lot a them under green are barbaric. They use fuckin’ gunpowder an’ lead bullets for weapons. That shit’s no better than a cudgel and rock. It’s no wonder they jumped for peace like starvin’ barkbeasts when her Highness offered.” He shrugged, his whole air a clear message saying ‘wwhat’s the big deal?’ And that wasn’t sitting well with Tavros.

The burning anger increased, clawing its way up his throat pinned between his teeth and tongue. Tavros clenched his jaw so hard he was sure he felt his fangs shifting. This troll was no longer just insulting him. He was toeing the line of insulting the arms that had saved so many lives.

Superior weapons be damned, a .38 revolver was more reliable than even the biggest solar stream rifles. Get dirt in the barrel of a .45 Zetive and you could keep shooting. All you had to do was make sure to clean it out later. By contrast, a single speck of sand in the cooling cells on one of those rapid fire blitz streams and it might as well be thrown away then because the moment the trigger was pulled it would explode.

Tavros clenched his hands together to keep himself looking calm. He had to let the insults pass. If he lost it now, the consequences from burning these bridges would be tremendous. He counted down from ten several times by the time the burning left his throat. He felt like smiling, a small disaster had been averted. That was until the seadweller turned away from Feferi to look him straight in the eyes. His lips bent into what Tavros could only describe as a malevolent sneer, words spoken with insulting slowness.

“Not to mention they were losin’ their fodder in droves. No tactics. Just throwin’ as many as they could at the empire. You should be countin’ yourself lucky that you weren’t turned into fertilizer, shitblood. Like so many of your kind.”

Rage flooded up his chest so fast it slammed against his teeth. Every joint went tight, winding up his body like a spring. He wanted to lunge himself at that twiggy excuse for a troll and strangle him for that. Too many good trolls, all two times this bastard’s worth, died a violent death. Somehow Tavros managed to restrain the urge enough to keep from charging but not even close to slow the emotional battering ram that smashed his mouth open. Before he could wax eloquent to this _Rear_ Admiral-the lowest of Admiral ranks, mind you-why he would never become a Fleet Admrial on the other side of the border and question who he had to screw to get the rank he already had, Gamzee spoke first. Probably for the best.

“My brother, you best be watching the paths your words pave messy for you.” The indigo’s smile didn’t falter but the rhythm was even slower than normal, a restrained tenseness in the pattern of his voice.  “Such routes will twist and twine you singular. Until you’re motherfucking alone.”

“Alone?” Eridan snorted. “Yeah. You would know somethin’ about that, wouldn’t you?”

Whatever that had meant crossed some line and the smile left Gamzee’s face. The tension in the air went from bad to ‘danger mode’ and Tavros felt a bead of sweat drain down his face and it wasn’t from the heat in the room.

Feferi rose from her chair. “That’s enough, Eridan.” Her face was placid like calm water but her voice was a quiet storm, a hidden danger just behind it giving the room Tavros the feeling he was in the eye of a hurricane. “I’m sorry, you two but I have to cut this short. I just can’t continue after that.”

Gamzee gave an understanding nod. “Not a problem, fishsis.”

With that, she snatched the back of his collar and yanked the seadweller up with strength that her small size never implied.  Eridan yelped as his front collar dug into his throat as he was dragged him out of the room, his cape flip-flopping over his shoes, not allowing any traction across the marble floor. “Wait, Fe-huk!” He thrashed in her grip, his eyes wide to a comical degree. Tavros noticed Gamzee smile as they watched Feferi throw open the door and drag the Rear-Admiral out.

Once the door had closed Gamzee laughed and Tavros couldn’t help but join him. 


End file.
